"Colonel Wilton Brice, Stephen's grandfather. There is a marked look about all the Brices. He was only twenty years of age when the Revolution began. That picture was painted much later in life, after Stuart came back to America, when the Colonel was nearly forty. He had kept his uniform, and his wife persuaded him to be painted in it." "If Stephen would only come as Colonel Wilton Brice!" she cried. "Do you think he would, Mrs. Brice?" Mrs. Brice laughed, and shook her head. "I am afraid not, Anne," she said. "I have a part of the uniform upstairs, but I could never induce him even to try it on." As she drove from shop to shop that day, Anne reflected that it certainly would not be like Stephen to wear his grandfather's uniform to a ball. But she meant to ask him, at any rate. And she had driven home immediately to write her invitations. It was with keen disappointment that she read his note of regret. However, on the very day of the ball, Anne chanced to be in town again, and caught sight of Stephen pushing his way among the people on Fourth Street. She waved her hand to him, and called to Nicodemus to pull up at the sidewalk. "We are all so sorry that you are not coming," said she, impulsively. And there she stopped short. For Anne was a sincere person, and remembered Virginia. "That is, I am so sorry," she added, a little hastily. "Stephen, I saw the portrait of your grandfather, and I wanted you to come in his costume." Stephen, smiling down on her, said nothing. And poor Anne, in her fear that he had perceived the shade in her meaning, made another unfortunate remark. "If you were not a--a Republican--" she said. "A Black Republican," he answered, and laughed at her discomfiture. "What then?" Anne was very red. "I only meant that if you were not a Republican, there would be no meeting to address that night." "It does not make any difference to you what my politics are, does it?" he asked, a little earnestly. "Oh, Stephen!" she exclaimed, in gentle reproof. "Some people have discarded me," he said, striving to smile. She wondered whether he meant Virginia, and whether he cared. Still further embarrassed, she said something which she regretted immediately. "Couldn't you contrive to come?" He considered. "I will come, after the meeting, if it is not too late," he said at length. "But you must not tell any one." He lifted his hat, and hurried on, leaving Anne in a quandary. She wanted him. But what was she to say to Virginia? Virginia was coming on the condition that he was not to be there. And Anne was scrupulous.